


His Master's Voice

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Control Issues, M/M, Manipulation, Vocal influences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will doesn't like what's happening to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Master's Voice

His t-shirt is twisted somewhere over his head when the phone rings. Caught in the tangle of material, Will freezes. His own breath strangely loud in the silence after.

The phone rings again and Will hesitates, pulling his shirt off and dropping it. It’s ten o’clock at night.  He should already be in bed, trying to sleep, instead of still in the process of undressing. Now he’s standing there half naked in his bedroom with the phone, shrill and demanding, waiting for him to answer its needs. He doesn’t have to answer it, of course, could always ignore it and simply go to bed leaving the caller to the tender platitudes of his answering machine. When he checks the caller ID it says _Hannibal,_  and Will hesitates again.

Why is he calling now? Will’s done for the day, cleansed his mind of the lingering remnants of Hannibal’s presence. It takes him some time after every conversation, too much time and if he’s completely honest, never entirely works. Slivers of Hannibal remain embedded in Will’s skin, like splinters he can’t remove no matter how much he pokes at them.

Resentment couples with curiosity as Will moves at last to pick up.

“Hello.” The sooner the conversation is over, the sooner he can sleep. There’s a careful balance between letting the man into his brain, and being able to purge him before Will’s possessed by him. It’s taking its toll.

“Ah, Will. I must apologize for disturbing you at this late hour.” Hannibal, poised and courteous as ever.  

Will resists the urge to cover himself. The man can’t see him over the phone, but his nakedness is still unbearably obvious to his mind, as though Hannibal can sense his bare flesh over the tangle of telephone wires. _That isn’t logical_ , Will reminds himself.

“That’s quite all right, Dr. Lecter.” It’s not that late. Will’s not a child after all. Still somehow it’s as though Hannibal knows he was getting ready for bed, knows that Will is standing there in just his shorts. “What was it you needed?”

There’s a pause after his words, and Will thinks about what he said, how it could be interpreted. Some people, people who read too much into these things, might take that as a come on. Normally he wouldn’t care, but with Hannibal, it’s not that simple. Hannibal desires something from him. Will doesn’t know what it is yet, but he’s fairly certain it isn’t sex. 

_He should be so lucky._

Now that’s definitely a childish thought. Will dismisses it as Hannibal starts to speak again.

“I merely wanted to tell you that I’m afraid I have to cancel our appointment tomorrow. Something unexpected came up. I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize. I understand.” There’s another pause, and Will adds, “These things happen.” Not that he knows what’s happened exactly; Hannibal didn’t say and Will can’t help wondering about that. Hannibal, so polite and professional. What could be important enough to make him cancel an appointment? Especially one with Will? Not that it mattered as much to Hannibal. Will’s mind is rambling now; Will’s mind needs a break.

“Of course. Thank you for being so understanding. I’ll call you to reschedule in a day or two. Until then.” Hannibal ends the call.

Will doesn’t let the disappointment hit him he’s set the phone down. He won’t see Hannibal tomorrow, won’t be able to allow himself recharge before another exhausting encounter with a crime scene.  Since when has seeing Hannibal been necessary for that though?

Since recently. Since the dreams have been seeping more and more through to his waking hours and he can’t turn them off.  It’s one of two things bothering him. The other one is more delicate. Will doesn’t like what’s happening to him even as he feels himself going through the process. Disliking it doesn’t mean he doesn’t know what it is.

Dogs respond to their master’s voice. Some are trained, some do it instinctively.

Hannibal’s voice is a quiet sigh in the night. A small reminder that while the darkness often seems all encompassing, it ends, as darkness always does, but in the meantime you are not alone.

It’s that first sip of coffee in the morning, spreading awareness throughout Will’s body until he’s fully and utterly awake, experiencing everything about him with fresh understanding. He was alive before, but not fully awake.  

His voice is a sonata haunting you on a warm summer evening, when the heat is just starting to get you and you long for a nice cool shower to wash the sweat starting to collect at the back of your neck, your collar sticking unpleasantly to your skin. Try as you might, you can’t stop hearing the strains even as the water courses over you. By the end of it, you’ve started humming along. By the next three days you’re sick of the tune, even as it’s the only constant inside your brain.

Lecter’s voice is now what Will hears when he wakes in the night, a whisper curling affectionately around his ear.

Will’s past that stage, the first whisper in the dark. He’s entered the coffee segment. Lecter’s voice makes him more aware of everything, heightening his already considerable senses.

He’s not sure what he’ll do when he reaches the sonata stage, when he’ll be willing to do anything to ease the ache of Lecter’s voice in his brain, because after that the tune becomes part of you, and you barely notice it any more.

One of his dogs noses wetly at his palm, and Will pets him absentmindedly, automatically. How long till he’s at that point? When will he cock his head and listen intently when Hannibal enters the room? When till Hannibal reaches out and Will strives for that brief reassuring caress that all animals seek, to know that everything’s all right, that he’s doing well.

A breeze brushes the curtains, sending a chill through the open window. Will shivers, abruptly reminded of his state of undress. He pulls a drawer open, reaching for a fresh shirt.

Will doesn’t like what’s happening here, but he doesn’t know if he can stop it.


End file.
